


Noxian Affairs

by hmao



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmao/pseuds/hmao
Summary: Grand General of Noxus coerces the young Du Couteau assassin into bed.
Relationships: Talon Du Couteau/Draven, Talon Du Couteau/Jericho Swain
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Your Secret Is Safe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893036) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> This is my first fanfic, hope you all enjoy.

Not long ago Talon had received an invitation to see Swain. An invitation that obviously couldn't be refused unless he wanted to insult the Grand General of Noxus and make an enemy of the half demon man. It was at Swain’s manor that the general revealed he knew about Talon’s sexual endeavors with other men, a crime punished by death. Swain then coerced the Du Couteau assassin into nightly sessions. 

Initially Talon hated Swain. The man was so full of himself, with each of their rough encounters always reminding Talon that “he gets what he wants”. But as time went on, Talon grew to tolerate his visits and accept his submission to the possessive general...

* * *

A hand pressed on Talon’s back, bending him forward against the foot of the bed. Swain placed himself against Talon’s rear, and further spread apart Talon’s thighs before entering him. The intrusion created a soft gasp from Talon, which caused him to bite his lip, not wanting to let any more sounds escape through the open balcony doors. If someone looked up closely, they would notice the silhouette of two men entwined. The risks of being spotted only served to heighten the Noxian Grand General’s enjoyment. 

Talon’s body trembled as Swain's throbbing member traveled deeper into him, stretching his insides. The general thrust slowly and gently, until he felt the boy loosen up around his manhood. Swain’s demonic hand gently traced along Talon’s lower back before grabbing a fistful of Talon’s dark hair. Swain’s lips curled in a slight smile as he felt the young man's back arch against his chest. “Enjoying yourself, assassin?” Swain teased.

“Shut up,” Talon hissed, gritting his teeth. 

Swain’s demonic hand let go of Talon’s hair and latched onto Talon’s slender throat, choking him, until the young man’s desperate claws at Swain’s hand and defeated sounds made Swain loosen his grip. Swain’s demonic hand traced up Talon’s throat, stopping at his chin. Pulling Talon closer, he commanded into the young man’s ear, “Say my name.” 

Talon knew better than to resist. “Jericho...Swain…” he gasped, as the general’s demonic finger brushed over his lips, feeling the softness of Talon’s skin. 

It was then Swain became overtaken by carnal lust. He increased his speed, vigorously pumping in and out of the young man with unsuppressed desire.

The sudden assault caused a loud moan to slip from Talon’s mouth. Swain grabbed the back of Talon’s hair and roughly pressed his head down into the bed to smother his sounds. As much as Swain loved hearing Talon’s voice, he couldn’t let his guards outside know what they were doing.

Swain wrapped his human arm around Talon’s waist, pulling the smaller man into a tight embrace. His demonic hand clasped tightly around Talon's mouth, continuing to muffle his moans as Swain's thrusts intensified.

Just when Talon felt like his senses couldn't stand anymore assault, a sticky, warm sensation filled him inside.

The general tenderly caressed Talon’s neck, before letting go of the assassin. 


	2. Chapter 2

Talon strode silently through the forest, picking up his pace as the sky was slowly starting to brighten. Clouds of fog receded and gave way to cool rays of sunshine. The sun was shining high in the sky by the time he reached the Immortal Bastion. He scaled the outer defense wall and effortlessly vaulted over, not wanting to waste time getting through guards at the city’s main entrance gates. 

Finally, Talon arrived at Swain’s manor, just one of many of the Grand General’s private residences. It was smaller than most of his other residences and more discrete to hide from prying eyes, but its architecture was no less magnificent in appearance in comparison to the other wealthy mansions of Mortorra. “Tell him I’m here,” Talon said to Swain’s guards. As usual, they eyed the assassin with suspicion but went to fetch word about his arrival. 

Talon leaned against the gated fence, still panting from his long travel. As his breathing calmed down, it suddenly struck him that this neighborhood was quite beautiful in broad daylight. During night time the district was so dark that he could only make out the bleak shapes of each building. Talon felt weird visiting Swain during daytime. 

“You’re late.” 

Talon looked up in the direction of the familiar deep voice. He quickly stood up straight to greet the general. “I know, sorry. Had a mission to do outside the city this morning.”

Swain noted a stain of crimson on Talon’s cape. “Let’s just get going,” he commanded, ignoring the urge to ask Talon if he was wounded. Though Swain was curious he didn’t inquire the assassin about his work. It bothered him that he was starting to care for the young man, more than he ever had for anyone. 

“Who fights at today’s match?” Talon asked as they quickly strode through the city’s bustling streets with Swain’s guards following closely behind. Though he has heard plenty of stories about the infamous Fleshing Arenas(Reckoning Arena?), he has not actually attended a match in person. He was never a fan of that form of the spectator sport. Not that he was a pacifist but pitying men to fight each other to death for no reason other than a crowd’s entertainment was...distasteful, he thought. 

“The usual. War prisoners and worthless criminals. What’s interesting though is they are up against a guy who hasn’t yet lost a match,” Swain explained, his voice hinting excitement. 

Talon’s ears perked up in interest. “What’s his name?” 

“You’ll know soon enough.” 

* * *

_Viscero! Viscero! Viscero!_ The crowd chanted, almost in unison. The noise in the arena was deafening, its atmosphere thick with bloodlust. 

Talon looked around in astonishment as they walked up the steps to the arena’s elite section, the only section that still had empty seats, located on the highest floor of the arena. Stories didn’t exaggerate about this place. The arena was much larger than he expected, the giant amphitheater was packed with a sea of spectators. 

“Greetings, General,” a gruff voice boomed. 

“Welcome, Commanders. take a seat.” Swain gestured to his right. 

Talon bowed his head respectfully towards Commander Darius and his brother Draven, whose eyes scanned him with a curious but predatory glint. Draven noted that the assassin was a lot shorter and smaller than he remembered. He didn’t hesitate and walked over to Talon, taking the seat to his left. The two sat behind Swain and Darius. 

Draven leaned back in his seat, making himself comfortable. Talon stiffened as Draven sat way too close, their knees grazing. 

A crooked smile appeared in his face as he noticed Talon’s obvious discomfort from the corner of his eye. “Haven't seen you in a while,” Draven said, casually placing a hand on Talon’s thigh. 

Talon quickly brushed his hand away. “Just accompanying the General,” he retorted. The two of them never engaged privately other than brief encounters at formal meetings for Noxian elite, in which Talon used to accompany Marcus to. Not that Talon had any reason to befriend the man that ran this arena with a sadistic reputation for murdering traitors in “entertaining ways”. 

“Ah… I see.” Draven seemed deep in thought, as if he was already speculating about what kind of relationship Talon had with Swain. “Well you should come around more often. Especially on days when I fight,” Draven finally said, again placing his hand on Talon’s thigh. 

Talon didn’t know what to answer and stole an angry glance at Draven, who ignored him, staring straight ahead with a smug expression. 

Draven’s hand suddenly moved upwards, squeezing Talon’s crotch. Talon clenched his fists in shock. He couldn’t start a fight here, and making enemies with Glorious Executioner was a terrible idea. Draven’s hand started stroking Talon through his pants. Talon was horrified when his member reacted to the touches. Draven turned to look at the young assassin, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “So it’s true..” 

Luckily the match was about to start. Draven pulled his hand away. Talon breathed deeply, suppressing the urge to punch Draven in the face. 

_Welcome, Ladies and Gentleman!_ The announcer’s voice echoed through the arena. _As you all are expecting, the spotlight of today’s match is...Viscero! Let the fight begin!_

The stadium erupted into cheers as Xin Zhao stepped into the arena with his signature Three Talon Spear. His eyes glazed over the familiar scene emotionlessly. Listening to the chants of the crowd, he suddenly remembered that his name here was “Viscero”. Despite his newfound fame and growing sponsors in this strange land, he hardly found pleasure in the barbaric sport. As a prisoner, he simply fought to survive. 

The opposing reckoners of the fight’s first round were three unlucky Noxian criminals whose prison warden chose on a whim. They entered the arena, all carefully eyeing Xin Zhao with apprehensive fear. The Noxian criminals nervously clutched their weapons: daggers and swords that they only had a rough idea of how to use, a pity gift from other prisoners. 

Talon tensed up when he felt one of the criminals looked familiar. He then came to a sad realization that these criminals were from the same slums he grew up in. They were just ordinary folk that probably stole food or committed some other minor misdemeanor. 

Draven noticed the change in Talon’s body. “An assassin with sympathy?” he mocked.

Talon crossed his arms and relaxed his body. “I don’t kill innocent.” 

“Innocent? These guys are criminals,” Draven laughed. 

Talon remained silent, figuring it was pointless to argue with Draven’s logic. 

The round was swift. Many more rounds preceded, all uneventful. Soon hours have passed and the arena floor soaked in the blood of dozens upon dozens of dead criminals and war prisoners. None of the reckoners stood a chance against this Viscero man, Talon thought as he looked away from the scene in disinterest. 

_Now, for the final round, we have three Demacian soldiers!_ The crowd erupted in cheers louder than ever. 

Xin Zhao looked at his final opponents, his chest still heaving from his previous fight.* The Demacian soldiers took advantage of that and wasted no time. They quickly drew their swords and charged at Xin Zhao. Xin Zhao dodged the attacks of the first two, but was a moment too slow on the third. The third attacker pierced Xin Zhao in the abdomen, instantly drawing huge amounts of blood. Xin Zhao grasped the attacker’s sword, and with an agonizing yowl pulled it out, knocking his opponent backwards. 

With great effort, he defeated two of the soldiers. By now the third soldier sustained more damage than Xin Zhao, bleeding profusely all over. Xin Zhao lunged at him, stabbing him twice, then knocking him up on the third. As the soldier fell, Xin Zhao pinned his shoulder to the floor with his spear. 

_Finish him!_ The crowd chaotically screamed. 

Draven leaned forward in anticipation. 

Picking up the soldier’s sword, Xin Zhao fatally sliced the soldier’s neck.The match was over. 

*This was before Xin Zhao pledged allegiance to J4 in the lore

* * *

“General Swain, if you don’t mind, I would like to give Talon a tour of the arena, since this is his first time here,” Draven spoke up. 

Swain took notice of Talon’s glares but replied “Of course.” Though Swain wasn’t too pleased with the idea either, he had work meetings to attend and had to get going. He and Darius left together, discussing Xin Zhao’s match.

“What do you want?” Talon spat. 

Draven grinned, wrapped an arm around Talon’s shoulder, pushing the reluctant assassin along. “Relax, just giving you a tour of the place.” 

The two entered an underground passageway of the amphitheater. Talon was already tuning out Draven's rambling about his great contributions to the Reckoning Arena. 

Talon was caught off guard when Draven suddenly shoved him into an empty room and shut the door behind them. 

“What are you-” 

Draven seized Talon and pushed him against a wall, twisting one of his arms behind his back. 

Talon yelped in pain as he writhed against the taller man’s grip, shocked at their strength difference.

“You’re into men, right?” Draven asked excitedly. “I've heard a couple rumors-” 

“No! I’m not into guys! ” Talon cut in, unable to hide the panic in his voice as he felt Draven’s bulge press against his rear. 

“Right,” Draven scoffed. With his free arm he started pulling Talon’s trousers down. 

Talon managed to break free. He whipped around, landing a punch straight into Draven’s jaw, and dashed towards the door. Before he could turn the knob, rough hands snatched him and he was violently thrown against the floor. 

Draven straddled the assassin, holding him down with his weight. Talon reached for his knives, but Draven was faster. Using one hand he pinned the assassin's wrists above his head.

“Get off!” Talon snarled. 

“Didn’t I just tell you that I’m undefeated here? You know you can’t beat me in a fight, so don’t bother struggling.” He pulled Talon’s knives out from his belt, brushing one against Talon’s cheek. “Such a pretty face...won’t be a shame if it was cut up.” Draven's rapacious eyes locked with Talon’s panicked ones. “But no, I don’t want to ruin your face.” 

Talon struggled intensely as Draven pulled off his pants. Despite landing a few kicks on him, the executioner was unfazed. Draven sighed. “I told you to stop struggling.” Taking one of Talon’s knives, he plunged it into Talon's right arm, pinning it to the floor. 

Talon howled in agony. The glorious executioner grinned sadistically, plummeting another knife into the man's left arm. Using his knees, he spread Talon’s legs. He swiped some of the blood with his fingers and licked it, tasting it before inserting them into Talon. One finger, then two, as he lubricated the young assassin. 

Talon shut his eyes tightly, turning his head away, unable to cope with what was happening. Draven’s gaze remained fixed on Talon, staring at him with intently as he violated him. “You look...so beautiful.”

Talon grimaced. “You’re insane- nmph,” he gasped as Draven’s fingers pushed on a sensitive spot. 

To Draven the gasp was highly erotic and stimulating. He reached down his pants and unzipped his trousers, pulling out his own erect member that was throbbing with desire. “Just enjoy it,” he said, his voice husky with lust. He entered into the assassin, stretching him apart with forceful thrusts. He held Talon’s legs, spreading them further apart as he pumped aggressively. Talon was so tight, it felt so good. 

Unable to hold it in anymore, Talon screamed in anguish, hot tears slipping down his cheeks. First Swain, now Draven. It was enough already that one man was exploiting him, he thought. Though Draven was much worse...

As if hearing his thoughts, Draven grabbed his chin, forcing Talon to look at him. “Why are you crying? You do this all the time,” he said with his usual smirk. “The general’s whore…”

Unable to answer, Talon continued sobbing in humiliation and pain. His arms were bleeding heavily and his body grew numb from the torment. 

The sounds of Draven’s hip slapping against the Talon's bare ass grew louder, echoing off the cold stone walls of the cellar. With blurred vision the assassin gazed weakly at the ceiling, before slipping away into the unconscious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sweaty Apple" is apparently the RP name for taverns in Noxus. xD

Talon jolted awake, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. His panic slowly subsided as he made out the familiarity of his surroundings. He was back in his own room, at the Du Couteau house. Glancing out the window, he noted it was around noon.

Feeling hot and uncomfortable, Talon quickly pulled the thick blanket off him and sat up, realizing his arms weren’t hurting too badly. He looked down, someone had bathed him and changed his clothes. His wounds were stitched up and neatly bandaged, giving off a lingering scent of ointment that contained healing magic. He inspected the gauze, there was a Reckoner emblem on a corner of it, which meant he was treated by a mage that worked at the arena. 

Whoever brought him home also left a bottle of healing ointment on his desk. The painful memory of yesterday’s events weighed on his mind as he contemplated what to do. At that moment, Talon never resented anyone more in his life. _Draven needs to die_ , he thought bitterly, but knowing the anger was mostly directed towards himself. _But if Draven needed to die, so did Swain... No… Swain was different._ The general’s relations with him were also coercive, but he didn’t hate it. In fact, their relationship had strayed far-

“You know I also wonder sometimes... what is the meaning of life?” Katarina quipped with a lively grin on her face as she leaned against the door frame. “Lunch is ready.” 

Realizing he was completely lost in thought, Talon looked nonchalantly over to the redhead to hide the fact that he was startled to see her there. “Hey, Kat.”

As she turned to leave, he remembered something. “Wait. Who brought me home?” 

Katarina halted. “One of Draven’s servants. Said Draven found you blacked out at Sweaty Apple. I didn’t even know you drank, you’re probably lightweight huh,” Katarina teased. “And also an angry drunk,” she remarked, after observing the bandages on his arm, thinking he got into a bar fight. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if the executioner frequented the Apple taverns daily, Draven was notorious for being a heavy drinker, another aspect of his infamous reputation. Talon shrugged in response as Katarina left, not bothering to correct her. The Sinister Blade and him were cordial with a sibling-like relationship that fostered over years of working together as Du Couteau assassins. Despite their genuine respect and loyalty towards one another, they never discussed personal matters. It wasn’t Noxian to confide in each other’s weaknesses. 

Talon got out of bed and stepped into the washroom, his head heavy from oversleeping. As he took off his shirt, he looked into the mirror. A pale man with dark tousled hair stared back with a shocked expression. He was covered in bruises, fresh black and blue spots that appeared over his scars. _In places I don’t even recall..._ Unwilling to let memories of the assault flood his mind again, Talon gripped the sink tightly, his knuckles turning white as he took in deep breaths to calm himself. 

He fought the impulse to wallow in self pity. Taking one last look at his bruised and bandaged up body, Talon reminded himself that discarding his pride in certain situations was a necessary tactic for survival, especially when he couldn’t adequately defend himself. After all that he’s been through, from barely scraping a living in the slums of Noxus to becoming a notorious assassin, he wasn’t about to break so easily. 

* * *

Swain wrapped his arms around the assassin’s waist and pulled him onto his lap as he leaned back into the chair. His hand traced down to Talon’s pants, undoing his belt and zippers. 

“How did you get this?” Swain asked, his brows furrowed in concern as his fingers softly brushed a large bruise on Talon’s hip. 

Talon pushed Swain’s arm away. “From my last mission,” he muttered. Averting the half demon man’s piercing gaze, he tried to stand up. 

Swain was doubtful. He pulled the assassin back onto his lap and lifted up his shirt further to inspect, aghast to find the young man’s body full of bluish-purple spots that noticeably contrasted his pale skin. He quickly removed Talon’s shirt. 

Talon clutched one of his arms, as if he was attempting to hide his bandages. Though his wounds were almost all healed thanks to healing magic, he still needed to reapply the ointment and gauze regularly. 

Swain spotted the arena emblem on the bandage, anger welling up inside him as he suspected what happened. He tugged down Talon’s pants slightly, finding more bruises around his thighs. “Your injuries don’t match with what you are implying. It was not an ordinary fight. Tell me, what really happened?” Swain asked in increasing volume, his voice laden with both concern and malice.

“What...what do you mean? He was my assassination target. He put up a good fight.” Talon replied, his voice faltering at the blatant lie.

Swain took Talon’s chin with his demon hand and turned his face sideways, making the young man look at him directly. “You can tell me the truth, I’ll put an end to him,” Swain said softly, watching turmoil unfold in Talon’s eyes. 

Talon’s heart raced. He wanted to just utter the truth, get it out, but the words caught in his throat. _The truth is that Draven raped me_ , _at the arena after you left..._ No, he couldn’t say that. It was far too humiliating. Talon swallowed and looked away, breaking their eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I can take care of myself.” 

Swain understood that the assassin wasn’t going to tell him. He leaned over to grab a blanket off the bed and draped it over Talon, wrapping his arms tightly around the young man, holding him closely as he warmed up his body. The soothing act brought some comfort to the assassin. The two remained like this for a while, with only sounds of the fireplace crackling next to them. 

“You haven’t come in by a week,” Swain finally spoke, breaking the silence. He was worried, not knowing where the Talon disappeared off to. The general ran his fingers through Talon's hair as he leaned closer to Talon, brushing his lips along the young man’s cheek, the soft touch sending shivers through Talon’s body. Soon Swain’s lips were on his, hungrily caressing the young assassin’s as if to convey how much he missed him. 

The intimate act induced a slight gasp of surprise from Talon. This was the first time Swain ever kissed him on the lips. He eventually responded with the same eagerness, breathing in the general’s sweet scent of honey and tea. 

Minutes later they were in bed, Talon’s fingers dug into Swain’s muscular back. There was something about Swain at night that always made him weak, his mind becoming muddled while his body entered euphoria. Even when the touches were rough, it was affectionate. The more Talon was touched, the more he hungered. He needed the half demon man, on top of him, inside him, ravishing him whole. 

Their encounters were always like this, a fantasy that faded to black, a beautiful dream that slipped away by morning. 

* * *

Draven woke up to a blade sharply pressed against his neck. 

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness in his bedroom that was illuminated only by moonlight through high, uncurtained windows, Draven stared at the masked intruder who was dressed in complete black. Even in a situation like this, he expressed no panic nor fear. Instead his eyes flashed in anger. “Who the fuck are you?” he growled. 

“Get up,” the intruder commanded. 

“What?” he snarled. 

The intruder pressed the blade slightly into his neck, drawing blood. “Don’t test my patience.” 

Draven recognized the voice and laughed in disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

"I said get up. And get on your knees," Talon said icily. 

In a split second, Draven reached for his axe, only to grasp at empty air. 

“Looking for this?” Talon mocked as he held Draven’s axe in his other hand. 

Draven felt his blood boil as Talon drove the blade a little further into his neck. With no choice left, he gave in to the assassin's demands, his bare knees loudly hitting the marble tiled floor. 

“Now apologize.” 

Draven scoffed. “What do you want me to say? Sorry that you’re so pathetic?” he sneered. He was completely unprepared when a metal laden boot powerfully kicked into his face, toppling him over in pain. He grasped at the cold floor, disorientated. 

“I figured you wouldn’t apologize.” Talon harshly kicked Draven again before the man could pull himself up. “You said I won’t beat you in a fight, which you're probably right about. But you forgot something important: assassins don’t duel, we assassinate. Luckily for you, I didn’t do that." 

Drawing copious amounts of blood as he held his blade flush against the man’s neck one last time, Talon leaned down. “Don’t ever think you could make me your bitch. Try again and I’ll take your head.” With that, the hooded figure disappeared into the shadows of the night. 

Draven was in the most horrible mood the next morning, continuously fuming that he would “kill that son of a bitch” at the breakfast table. 

Darius noticed Draven’s bandaged neck but didn’t bother to ask where he got it from. “Yeah you say that about everyone. It’s time you learned some diplomacy - ‘subtle art’ as Swain puts it. Strength isn’t always measured by combat skills. You’ll soon be in trouble if you only surround yourself with enemies.” 

“Whatever,” Draven muttered as he tossed his dining knife sending it clattering against an empty plate. 

Darius felt irritated by his brother's attitude. Ever since they were younger, Draven was a hot headed kid that frequently got into brawls with other street children and underworld thugs. “You start fights with everyone but almost always expect me to finish the fights for you. If I wasn’t there, you probably wouldn’t have lived past childhood.” 

Draven got up to leave. “That was when we were kids. I don’t need your help anymore.” 

Darius sighed, shaking his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for enduring my first smut. Am new to fanfic & ao3 so bear with me (also I deleted this from a series to keep stories separate)


End file.
